


Friends in Low Places

by credencebvrebxne



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), Criminal Minds, Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst and Humor, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-08-23 16:57:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8335327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/credencebvrebxne/pseuds/credencebvrebxne
Summary: A/U Three Way Crossover. The BAU is called in to Manhattan to collaborate on a case with Manhattan SVU and Brooklyn's 99th Precinct. With three times the manpower and brainpower, will our favorite crime fighters be able to put this Unsub to rest? Will Hotch be able to ignore his feelings for Reid? Will Barba be able to ignore his own feelings towards Carisi? It's the delicate struggle of balancing one's work relationships and one's personal relationships, and it's a struggle that many of the detectives and agents can't handle. Told from alternating points of views





	1. Prologue

A/N: So I was definitely in the mood to write a triple crossover.

Jennifer Jareau smoothed her hair, blinking tiredly at her office computer screen. Both Henry and Michael had been up all night with a sinus infection. She could feel herself drifting off, but not before her phone began buzzing. “Agent Jareau,” she answered.

After listening intensely for fifteen minutes, she hummed in approval. “Yes, yes, we got your case last week. We reviewed it and I was about to present it to my team. No, you didn’t bother me. Yes, we should be there by the end of the day. Your welcome. Goodbye, Captain Benson.”

Jennifer shook her head, stood up, and headed to the conference room. Stopping by the bullpen, she cleared her throat. “Guys, we have a case.” She grimaced as the smiles on her coworker’s faces faded slowly.

The team paraded into the conference room, taking their seats silently. Garcia seized the remote, turning on the plasma screen television. She sighed wistfully. “Ok my lovely moppets. There is a total of twelve bodies in New York City, all raped, all stabbed repeatedly then shot in the head and the private parts respectively. The victims are all elementary and middle school students, varying in sex and race. What makes this case special, beyond especially gross and especially weird, is the fact that each killing alternates between two boroughs. They are all Manhattan residents, raped in their home before being transported to Brooklyn for the killing. The unsub also has each victim call the police _after_ the rape, reporting both the rape and the location. Manhattan’s Special Victim Unit contacted us a week ago, stating that their unit has been collaborating with Brooklyn’s 99th precinct. However, last week, their 12th body was discovered and they decided they needed extra help. It’s been six months and they still haven’t caught the guy.”

Hotch studied the display of pictures on the screen. “There’s obvious overkill on each body, and it’s rare to see an unsub without a particular preference to gender or race. Most pedophiles stick with one or the other. The fact that the killings are also occurring at a steady rate with no clear pattern of escalation indicates that the unsub has excellent self-control. These are children, and this is urgent. Wheels up in thirty.”

Olivia winced as she set down the phone. She knew her squad was territorial, and their reluctance to open up their territory to the 99th precinct was already adamant, but now she had to announce that the feds were called in. She walked into the crowded pen. “Guys. As you know, the Double Boroughs Killer is up to its twelfth victim in six months. We’ve already been working with Brooklyn’s 99th precinct. But, both Captain Holt and I have decided that there is a bigger force at play. Last week, we put in a request to have the FBI’s behavioral analysis unit consult on this case. They should be arriving later today. Now, the 99 is sending their five best detectives, as well as Captain Holt, to help consult on this case. We’re going to be working in the larger conference room. Agent Jareau, the BAU’s communication’s liaison, has requested that we set up a timeline and victimology board. Carisi, since you went to the FBI’s profiling seminar, I’m going to have you do that. This perp has raped and killed twelve people, consistently alternating between Brooklyn and Manhattan. We’ve been chasing him for months and its time we catch the son of a bitch.”

The squad nodded, dispersing outwards to do their assigned jobs. It wasn’t an hour later that Captain Raymond Holt stood tall in the middle of the bull pen. He was surrounded by six people, who were squabbling amongst themselves. Hushing them, Holt turned to Olivia. “Hello, captain Benson. I’m Captain Raymond Holt,” he said, stretching out a large hand.

Olivia smiled. The man had a kind but firm gaze. She took his hand and shook it resolutely. “And who did you bring?” she asked.

Holt stepped to the side, revealing his gang of bickering coworkers. “Settle down, have you no manners?” he barked.

This caused one of the people, a smartly dressed female with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, to snap away from the group, looking remotely ashamed. “Hi, I’m detective Amy Santiago,” she said, smiling warmly.

Before Olivia could shake Amy’s hand, a man-boy with unkempt curls bumped into her. “Sorry Ames,” he said apologetically. He turned his gaze on Olivia. “Hello captain, I’m Jake Peralta, captain Holt’s favorite detective, and a shoo-in for winning life,” he said, with a crooked smile.

Olivia couldn’t help but smile back. Holt interjected. “And this is detectives Boyle, Diaz, and sergeant Terry Jeffords,” he finished, snapping at his squad to get their act together.

Olivia snickered as one of the most well-built men she’s ever seen in the department turned around with a facial expression akin to a kicked puppy. She merely led the large crew into the conference room. Carisi, who had busied himself with creating the victim board and timeline, turned around, greeting the newcomers with a surprise. “Dominick,” he drawled. “But you can call me Sonny,” he added.

Boyle scrutinized Sonny carefully. “Didn’t you work Brooklyn SVU?” he inquired.

Sonny nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! For about a month.”

Boyle smiled approvingly. “You consulted on a case with me- the Bodega Ripper,” he quipped.

Carisi’s eyes widened in recognition. “Yeah I remember you!”

Boyle, Carisi, and Peralta broke off to discuss the details of their past case. Olivia pulled Captain Holt aside. “I just got a text from Agent Jareau. The Behavioral Analysis Unit will be landing in an hour. Carisi has the victim board set up, and I have Rollin’s down at the M.E pushing for the DNA results.”

Holt nodded curtly. “That is excellent,” he remarked, expression unwavering. “I am aware that you work with ADA Barba?” he inquired.

Olivia bobbed her head in affirmation. “Yes, we are. He’s taken a special interest in this case and would like routine updates as we reveal more about the perp.”

Holt stared at her intently. “Yes that is fine. I am familiar with ADA Barba from his days in Brooklyn, and I am completely confident in his ability to prosecute this case.”

Olivia gave the tall man a slight smile. “He’s one of the best members of this team,” she said reverently.

Hotch worried his lower lip as he observed the file J.J had handed him. The crime scenes were neat, just a corpse left with minimal forensic evidence. The Unsub seemed to bleach each body before posing them at various playgrounds and elementary schools. His heart sank as he came upon a photo of a child no older than eight, left in the fetal position on a park bench. Kids were always the worst, and the thing he worried about the most was how this case would affect his team. He was also partially worried about the department relations. He had done his brief research into Manhattan’s Special Victim Unit and Brooklyn’s 99th precinct. He was aware of the very recent death of sergeant Michael Dodds, and was wary of how the precinct would react with the FBI taking over. He knew that regularly, there were existing tensions between the feds and the local cops, but he made a note to take extra care on this case, as Manhattan’s SVU was prone to high publicity. Brooklyn’s 99th precinct was slightly less tense, but Hotch had noticed that both a captain and a lead detective had returned from being in the Witness Protection Program, and worried about atrophying detective skills came to mind. Shaking off his fears, Hotch pulled himself back to the moment. “Spencer,” he said, drawing out the genius’ name and looking at the file critically. “What do you think of the victimology?”

Spencer squinted at his copy for less than a minute. “Like you said before we left, it’s exceptionally rare that we see an unsub that chooses both boys and girls. What makes this even rarer was the fact that these children vary in both race and age. Normally pedophilia and ephebophilia are mutually exclusive. There’s also no pattern in the victimology, which means these are all probably victims of opportunity. He’s abducting high risk victims which means that he’s very smart- which is evident further in his ability to evade capture.”

Hotch nodded in agreement. “When we land, I want Rossi and Prentiss to go to the crime scene and I want Reid, JJ, Tara, and myself to meet up with Captains Holt and Benson.”

The team signaled their comprehension. The plane landed roughly on the tarmac, and they hurried outside. Hailing a cab, the team made their way to Manhattan’s special victim unit. As the cabs pulled up to the curb, the team climbed out, entering the police station. Hotch flashed his police badge. “Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, I’m consulting with the Special Victims Unit, a captain Olivia Benson knows of our arrival.”

The secretary smiled. “Alright sir, please take the elevator to the third floor.”

Hotch obliged, leading his team onto the elevator. Pressing the button, he held his breath. The elevator opened, revealing a busy squad room, bustling with people answering phones and doing paperwork. A woman with dark hair and a lean gait approached them. “I’m Lieutenant Olivia Benson. You must be the BAU,” she smiled warmly at the team.

Aaron nodded curtly. “I’m unit chief Aaron Hotchner.”

Olivia surveyed the newcomers critically. “I’m-I’m sorry, aren’t there supposed to be more of you?” she asked politely.

Hotch ushered his team into the conference room. “I sent my other two agents, David Rossi and Emily Prentiss, to the latest crime scene in Brooklyn. Olivia nodded in understanding. “Alright, well, I’ve got my best detectives, and the loans from the 99 in the conference room. I had one of my detectives, Carisi, set up a timeline and a victim board. You can take the lead from here.”

Hotch flashed her one of his rare smiles. He followed her into the conference room, where detectives sat on various pieces of furniture. Hotch suppressed a snort. It seemed as if everywhere he went, detectives were perplexed by the idea of using chairs for sitting. Hotch made his way towards the makeshift podium at the front of the room. He cleared his throat. The buzzing of the room died down. “Hello,” he said smoothly. “I’m supervisory special agent Aaron Hotchner and this is part of my team at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I have agents Prentiss, Lewis, and Jareau, and Dr. Spencer Reid assisting me with this case. Agents Prentiss and Rossi are at the most recent crime scene in Brooklyn.”

The air was thick with anticipation. Captain Holt stepped forward. “I’m captain Raymond Holt from Brooklyn’s 99th precinct. With me, I have detectives Peralta, Boyle, Diaz, and Santiago, as well as sergeant Terry Jeffords, and my assistant, Gina Linetti,” sweeping his arm out, gesturing towards each person respectively.

Hotch inclined his head slightly. He was then ambushed by a tall man with slicked back hair. “I’m detective Carisi, but you can call me Sonny.”

A shorter blonde woman rolled her eyes. “Nobody wants to call you Sonny, Carisi,” she said. She then extended her hand. “I’m detective Amanda Rollins.” She ushered towards a taller man with a dark complexion and a bald head. “This is my partner, Fin Tutuola.”

Hotch made his acquaintances before turning his attention to the victim board. Surveying it slowly, he clicked his tongue in approval. “This is excellent,” he admitted. “Detective Carisi, I’m impressed.”

Carisi puffed his chest out with pride. “Thank you agent Hotchner.”

Spencer was pacing the length of the displays. “Can someone tell me if any of the victims were connected in any way?”

Jake nearly tumbled off the table to answer the doctor. “The only link we could find was through the family. Each victim was part of a two parent household.” He righted himself before squinting shiftily at Spencer. “You look like you’re 20, how are you a doctor?” he inquired incredulously.

Spencer turned a shade of red. “I graduated early,” he explained, snorting derisively at his own explanation.

Only semi-satisfied, Jake returned to his seat, continuing to eye Spencer. Spencer blushed harder under the young detective’s gaze. Turning to the board, he was soon lost in thought. Hotch scrutinized the board alongside with him. “Could anyone tell me the connections between the two locations? There has to be one. The unsub, or unknown subject,” he clarified quickly once he saw a group of bemused expressions. “The unsub is taking a lot of risk to transfer his victims across an entire borough. And nobody can tell the victims are gone until a day before the bodies are found?”

Olivia nodded. “The M.E report says that each victim was brutally raped within a day of their death, and their disappearances are reported long after they’ve died. Every victim they’ve found, the time of death dates back farther than the Amber Alert.”

“And they’re always found in parks and school grounds?” Spencer asked.

Amy Santiago nodded. “They’re all school children who were latch-key kids, left home alone frequently. The perp had each victim call and report the rape, but by the time units reported to the scene, both the victim and the rapist is gone. The bodies are within the next 12 hours in Brooklyn. No DNA evidence, no trace evidence. It’s a disappearing act.”

“He’s obviously got deep seated resentment towards these children, look at that overkill. And the transferal of the victims means that each location has some deep meaning towards the unsub,” Terry commented warily.

Everyone from the 99 turned to look at him, including Captain Holt. “What?” he exclaimed. “Terry loves psychological analysis!” he said defensively.

They redirected their attention to Hotch, Prentiss and Reid. “What we need to do is a press release, warning all parents that leaving their children home alone should be a last resort. Recommend community centers and neighborhood day cares, but emphasize the importance of staying calm and alert,” Hotch relayed to J.J, who nodded and hurried away.

“The rest of us will work the case, analyze the current crime scene and work with what we have now,” he announced, receiving a unanimous response.

Hours into paperwork and theory trading, a young cadet stuck his head into the conference room. “Captains, agent,” he said nervously, a bead of sweat inching down his forehead. “He’s struck again.”

A/N: I love all three shows and I lowkey wanted to write a three way cross over. Not my best work but not my worst.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Time for an update ^_^

Agent Aaron Hotchner loomed over a corpse that was posed at a local playground in Manhattan. His brow furrowed and his thoughts wander. He was caught off guard by Reid, who placed a hand on Hotch's shoulder to steady him. "Deep breaths Aaron," Spencer muttered to his superior. "The kids are always the worst."

The team was in New York, looking for a serial murderer who preyed on kids and managed to transport and split his crimes between both Brooklyn and Manhattan. The BAU was being assisted by Manhattam’s Special Victims Unit, and Brooklyns 99th precinct. The team arrived at Manhattan’s precinct barely four hours ago when the unsub struck again. A young Caucasian boy was found half buried in the woods. He had the bluest eyes with a vacant gaze that floated near optimism. His blond curls stuck up and out, twigs and leaves ensnared in it. Hotch found himself nodding blankly. He quickly returned to the task at hand when one of Holt's detectives, Peralta, appeared at his side. Jake worried his lip. He cleared his throat. "Normally I have something really snarky, or like, a play on words, when I see a crime scene. My girlfriend Amy thinks it's my 'coping skill' or whatever. But uh, I don't think I can say anything about this," Jake exhaled loudly. "He can't be any older than eight."

Jake's voice trailed off and he frowned, deep in concentration. "It's always the kids man," he muttered, bending down and wiping leaves away from body. He tilted his head. Were children always this small? His thoughts drifted, but he couldn't get that little boys face out of his head. Upon his return to the station, he pulled Amy to the side. "Ames. Am I cut out to be a detective?" he asked seriously.

She started to laugh but was stopped by Jake's piercing gaze. "Jake, you're a great detective," she said reassuringly.

Jake shook his head. "The crime scene today-"

Amy stopped him. "Kids. Are. Different," she said emphatically.

Jake merely shrugged. “I just. Can’t get him out of my head,” he said.

Amy hugged him sympathetically.

Back at Quantico, Garcia was scrutinizing lists of records. After entering all the names of the victims, she cross referenced all their contacts. She was still coming up dry and her frustration bubbled consistently. She gritted her teeth, skimming articles and case histories with a terse anticipation. Her phone began ringing loudly. Hitting the speaker button in annoyance, she said, "Don't even try me, Derek Morgan, I'm coming up with zilch."

She could hear Derek's smooth laugh. This lightened her mood by a razor thin hair. "Just checking in baby girl," he told her kindly.

Garcia gnawed on her pen, massaging her temples languidly. "I want to find this guy," she told Derek. "I saw photos of the latest victim. His youngest yet. Did I hear that little boy was exsanguinated?" she asked, not really wanting the answer.

Morgan gnashed his teeth together in anger. “I wanna find him, Garcia.”

“Me too, Derek.”

Spencer had returned to the station house. Lieutenant Benson had reserved a conference room specifically so he could create the geographic profile. He scrutinized maps and case reports, calculating locations and marking them down on a larger map. He tapped his marker on his teeth, lost in thought. He didn't even notice Aaron appearing at his side. "This is good work," Aaron praised.

Spencer resisted the urge to beam with pride. Hotch only gave out such adulation in very rare cases, and when he did, Spencer knows it'll be a Very Good Day. He turned to Hotch. "Thanks Aaron. I really want to catch this son of a bitch. So what I've been noticing is that this guy hunts non exclusively. He doesn't differ between public and private schools, or certain racially prominent neighborhoods. I did notice, however, that all the victims were latchkey children. They walked home by themselves for the most part, making them more vulnerable as a target. The other thing I noticed is that all the burial sites happen within half a mile of a Salvation Army,” Spencer observed. “While his comfort zone is large, I feel like this pattern may be relevant in predicting upcoming attacks.”

Hotch nodded slowly. “Excellent, Spencer. Uh, great work.”

Hotch blushed under Spencer’s piercing gaze. The two of them had been feeling out some tensions for several months now, but had no desire or opportunity to explore the stress. Hotch cleared his throat. “Well uh, we should talk later. Maybe after the case,” Hotch suggested lamely. 

Spencer nodded in return. Someone knocked on the door, and Olivia Benson peered into the conference room. “They’ve just identified the latest victim,” she reports, ushering them into the bullpen.

A CSI tech stood in the middle of the bullpen on a chair. She was exceptionally short, but her gaze was sharp. “The newest victim is Teddy Marken. He was a second grader at a public school in Manhattan. He was 7 years old. His parents reported him missing just this morning when he didn’t come home from a sleepover he had with a friend. Teddy was beaten severely. He felt great pain, which was mercifully taken away when he exsanguinated.”

The room fell into a solemn silence. People’s faces fell. Charles Boyle stepped forward, volunteering to deliver the news to Teddy’s parents. Amy swiped at her face discretely, not wanting to be seen in a moment of weakness. 

Sonny Carisi turned to Prentiss. “How can someone exsanguinate a second grader?” he asked hollowly.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “When we catch this bastard, is your ADA capable of frying his ass?” she asked sardonically.

Sonny snorted. “Rafael Barba is a pompous ass but the most competent ADA I’ve had the privilege of working with,” Sonny said with pride. “I worked second chair with him on a case. It was an honor, but also a pain in the ass.”

Emily’s eyes narrowed. Something seemed off about Carisi’s casual off-handed critique of Barba. She shook the thought away, returning to the case file she had been reading. “Is he a narcissist?” she asked casually.

Sonny s chuckled. “In a completely vogue, avant-garde kind of way. But he has more humility than most lawyers I know,” Sonny couldn’t help but grin at the thought of Barba’s sharp tongue and acerbic wit. “So, profiling must be interesting,” Sonny said, changing the subject before he started kissing Barba’s ass in front of a federal agent. He flipped a page in his own folder.

Emily raised her eyebrows. “I suppose,” she said reluctantly, “If you don’t like staying in your home or having any sort of personal life, then yeah it’s the dream.”

Sonny laughed wryly. “I don’t have a love life,” he said curtly.

Emily nodded sympathetically. “Girls aren’t into the long legged greasy Staten Island vibe?” she teased gently.

Sonny flushed, and before Emily has a chance to apologize for being unprofessional, he says, “Not really too fond of girls,” he said lightly.

Emily masked her surprise. “Well whatever works,” she said casually. “Me, I could go either way,” she said. She takes a quick look across the bullpen, eyes landing on J.J. Her heart practically sang with her desire, but she merely repressed the emotion. This unsub was particularly nasty and she needed all her energy and focus to be on capturing them.

Amy scrutinized Jake, who was still rather despondent. She nudged him with her elbow. “Jake. Don’t worry. We’re gonna catch this dude.”

Jake grinned slightly at her usage of the word ‘dude.’ He opened his case file and skimmed it. He chewed his lip, analyzing the evidence. “I know. I just can’t shake that kid out of my mind.”

Sonny had made his way into the conference room, and was studying Reid’s work intensely. “So this will help figure out where the unsub lives?” Sonny asked.

Spencer nodded. “Essentially yes, geographical profiling and profiling in general helps us find a suspect via the process of elimination. So far, we know this guy has attachments to both Brooklyn and Manhattan. The burial sites are all within 1/2 mile of a Salvation Arm. This could mean he works or volunteers there, or that they once had meaning to his life. We know he abducts near schools and he abducts kids who walk alone.” He indicated to the respective spots on his map. “The more that I know, the more accurate this gets,” he remarked.

Hotch, who had re-entered the room to check in on Reid, caught the tail end of his geographic profile. After asking for a brief reiteration of the whole deal, Hotch nodded solemnly. “Thanks Reid. I’ll tell JJ to release a statement to the media, asking parents to escort their kids home from school until we find this guy,” he said, making long strides and disappearing from the door way.

Spencer leaned onto a table, stretching his gangly limbs. Carisi took a spot next to him. “How old are you?” he blurted out.

Spencer’s face heated. “I’m uh, in my 30’s,” he mumbled.

Carisi nodded approvingly. “You’re really young,” he said, impressed.

Spencer smiled, “Thank you.”

Carisi took another look at the map. He put his feet on the conference table and watched Spencer work quietly. The entire force worked relentlessly, and day passed into night. Before everyone began slowly going back to their home or respective hotels, JJ held a press conference for the 9 o’clock news. She stood in front of cameras flashing and humming. “The unsub we are looking for is dangerous, and targeting elementary/middle school students. They are favoring students who walk themselves home or are alone after school for an extended period of time. If you are a parent, I urge you to start escorting your children to and from school until this ordeal is over.”  
Spencer scrutinized JJ in admiration. She was always so level headed and quick footed. She was strong, but she knew how to fit in. She knew what to say, but could emphasize with the little guy. That’s what helped Spencer most of all when he joined the BAU, was JJ’s unrelenting kindness. She stepped off the podium, greeting him cheerfully. “What’s up Spence?” she asked kindly.

Spencer scrunched up his face. “Do you think dating someone older than you means you have some weird familial abandonment complex?” he asked suddenly.

JJ looked beyond confused, shaking her head, but choosing to answer the question anyways. “Not necessarily. It depends on the gap and the dynamics of the relationship. Why?” she asked.

Spencer’s cheeks reddened. “I uhm. Am fostering an attraction-”

“For Hotch,” JJ finished. “Everyone can tell. Except Hotch himself,” she explained quickly, rolling her eyes in exasperation

Spencer shook his head, slightly stunned. “Alright. Well then. Can you tell me if I’m being insane or not?” he asked quietly, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

JJ hugged him, taking him by surprise. “Ok, Spence. You’re fine. You’re not insane. Just infatuated. In fact, the sooner you let him know the sooner you’ll feel better.”

Spencer smiled at his friend warmly. He rubbed his eyes. “Thanks Jayje.”

He wandered back out into the bullpen, approaching Hotch carefully. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” Hotch shook his head stiffly in response. “I think I’m going to head to bed,” he yawned.

Hotch bid him a goodnight. Spencer left the police station, bidding the remainder of the officers and agents a cheery goodbye. His shoes clicked on the linoleum as he left the police precinct. He started to stroll on the well lit streets. Spencer always had a few curious mannerisms, and one of them was counting his steps as he walked. Distracted and staring at his feet, he was several blocks away when he felt cool steel pressed into the back of his head. His heart raced and his reflexes had him reaching for his gun. “Hands up, Spencer,” a rough voice said, ominous and threatening.  
The night was calm and empty. The only audible noise, for Spencer at least, was the resounding thud of his heart. He swallowed dryly, closing his eyes, swallowing a scream that was stuck in his throat.  
A/N: A relatively short chapter that’s most filler, but it’s getting there.


End file.
